For my brothers 
              Carl and ______ Beethoven
                   O 
              you men who consider, or describe me as quarrelsome, peevish or 
              misanthropic, how greatly you wrong me! You do not know the secret 
              reason why I seem to you to be so. From my childhood onward my heart 
              and soul have been filled with tender feelings of goodwill, and 
              I have always been willing to perform great and magnanimous deeds. 
              But reflect, for the past 6 years I have been in an incurable condition 
              made worse by unreasonable doctors. From year to year I have hoped 
              to be cured, but in vain, and at last I have been forced to accept 
              the prospect of a permanent infirmity (whose cure may perhaps take 
              years, or may prove to be quite impossible). Although born with 
              a fiery and lively temperament, and even fond of the distractions 
              of society, I soon had to cut myself off and live in solitude. When, 
              occasionally, I decided to ignore my infirmity, ah, how cruelly 
              I was then driven back by the doubly sad experience of my poor hearing, 
              yet I could not find it in myself to say to people: 'Speak louder, 
              shout, for I am deaf'. Ah, how could I possibly have referred to 
              the weakening of a sense which out to be more perfectly developed 
              in me than in other people, a sense which I once possessed in the 
              greatest perfection, to a degree which certainly few of my profession 
              possess or have ever possessed. I cannot do it, so forgive me if 
              you see me withdraw from your company, greatly though I should like 
              to mix with you. My misforture afflicts me doubly as I am bound 
              to be misunderstood. For me there can be no relaxation in human 
              society, refined conversations and mutual confidences. I must be 
              entirely alone, and except when the utmost necessity takes me to 
              the threshold of society I must live like an outcast. If I appear 
              in complay I am overcome by acute anxiety, for fear I am in danger 
              of revealing my conditionl. Such has been the case this last half 
              year, spent in the country, instructed by my sensible doctor to 
              spare my hearing as much as possible, which is indeed my present 
              inclination. Sometimes I ahve been driven by my desire to seek the 
              company of other human beings, but what humiliation when someone, 
              standing beside me, heard a flute from afar off while I heard nothing, 
              or when someone heard a shepherd singing, and again I heard nothing! 
              Such experiences have brought me close to despair, and I came near 
              to ending my own life -- only my art held me back, as it seemed 
              to me impossible to leave this world until I have produced everything 
              I feel it has been granted to me to achieve. So I continue this 
              miserable existence - truly miserable, as my body is so sensitive 
              that my condition can change rapidly from very good to very bad. 
              Patience - that must be my guide, as I am determined, and I hope 
              will always remain so, to endure until it pleases the inexorable 
              Parcae to break the thread. Perhaps my lot will improve, perhaps 
              not -- at the age of 28 I was compelled to become a philosopher. 
              It has not been easy, and more difficult for an artist than for 
              anyone else. Oh, God, you look down on my inner soul, and know that 
              it is filled with love of humanity and the desire to do good. Oh 
              my fellow men, when you read this some day, reflect that you have 
              done me wrong, and let him who is unfortunate comfort himself with 
              the thought that he has found someone equally unfortunate who, despite 
              all the burdens placed on him by nature, did all which was in his 
              power to earn a place among worthy artists and human beings. - You, 
              my brothers Carl and _______, as soon as I am dead, if Professor 
              Schmidt is still living, ask him in my name to describe my disease, 
              and add the paper I have written here to the documents of my illness, 
              so that after my death the world will be reconciled with me as far 
              as possible. - At the same time I herely nominate you both as heirs 
              to my little property (if it can be so called); share it honestly, 
              live in harmony, and help each other. You know that the harm you 
              did me has long since been forgiven. I thank you brother Carl, in 
              particular, for the goodness you have shown to me of late. My wish 
              is that your lives will be better and less careladen than mine. 
              Urge your children to follow the path of virtue, as that alone can 
              bring happiness -- money cannot. I speak from experience, as virtue 
              alone has sustained me in my misery, and it was thanks to virtue, 
              together with my art, that I did not end my life by committing suicide. 
              Farewell, and love one another. - I thank all my friends, especially 
              Prince Lichnowsky and Professor Schmidt. - I wish Prince Lichnowsky's 
              instruments to be kept safely by one of you, but do not make them 
              an occasion for strife between you; as long as they can serve you 
              in a more useful way, sell them - how happy I shall be if, in my 
              grave, I can still be of use to you both! So be it, I go joyfully 
              towards death. If it comes before I have had the chance to develop 
              all my artistic abilities, that will be too soon for me, despite 
              my hard fate, and I would wish it to be postponed - yet should I 
              not be satisfied, would it not release me from a condition of endless 
              suffering? Come when you will, death, I will meet you resolutely. 
              Farewell, and do not entirely forget me when I am dead; I have deserved 
              to be remembered by you, as I have often thought of you during my 
              lifetime. May you be happy.
            Heiligenstadt 
              Ludwig van Beethoven.
              6th October
              1802